


Mac And Dennis Submit to the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

by umekew



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Dennis is big dumb, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, angst..., but they all are so I mean, some tender moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 12:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20470892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umekew/pseuds/umekew
Summary: “I, uh...” Watching Mac closely, Dennis tried to gauge what words to say next in order to not make everything incredibly weird. Dennis knew how he felt, so it was only natural for the whole issue to be strenuous on the delicate balance of their relationship. perhaps he could sway it in his favor. Maybe Dennis would manipulate this whole thing and make Mac feel unneeded pity or distress for him, giving him the upper hand. In what, he didn’t know.“I need you to look at my taint.”alternatively titled, “Dennis Has Cancer”.





	Mac And Dennis Submit to the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

“Mac, Buddy,”

“Yeah?” He responded from far away.

Dennis stood in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror, a towel wrapped around his waist. His skin looked as glowing and porcelain as usual, his rosy lips in their natural pursed position. He looked good, statuesque even. Nothing unusual, considering that’s just how he always looked. For a moment, he did nothing but stare into his eyes and listen to the whirring air conditioner in the silence that followed Mac’s answer.

“Need you to come here for a minute.” This was one of the last conversations he would ever want to have with anyone, especially Mac. Just as quickly as he said it, his best friend appeared in front of him, wearing a striped bathrobe. Was it Mac’s, or was it Dennis’s? The lines there were blurred a long time ago. Either way Dennis probably purchased it, and underneath sat a horrid slogan t-shirt with the words “orgasm donor” plastered across the chest.

“What’s up?” He said, smiling as bright as the sun. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

“I, uh...” Watching Mac closely, Dennis tried to gauge what words to say next in order to not make everything incredibly weird. Dennis knew how he felt, so it was only natural for the whole issue to be strenuous on the delicate balance of their relationship. perhaps he could sway it in his favor. Maybe Dennis would manipulate this whole thing and make Mac feel unneeded pity or distress for him, giving him the upper hand. In what, he didn’t know.

The other man’s face faltered into a more concerned expression. Perhaps the lack of explanation made it weird already. Mac placed a far-too-gentle hand on Dennis’s shoulder and asked him what was wrong in words Dennis couldn’t really make out, considering he was in his head the whole time, watching Mac’s soft skin, his muscles shifting beneath his T-shirt.

After the awkward pause extended far too long, Dennis thought _Oh, what the hell._

“I need you to look at my taint.”

“What?” Was Mac’s first reaction, his second being an uncomfortable laugh clouded with confusion.

Dennis shoved the hand off of him, his voice cracking. “Stop it! I-I have a weird fucking bump there, man, and I can’t get a good look at it from my goddamn compact mirror and I just-“

“Woah, woah, woah. Easy there.” Mac said slowly, gesturing to the middle of the bathroom. “Move over here so I can get under you easier.” Dennis did his best to ignore the choice of words. He hated how Mac was so good at pretending that nothing was weird about the situation. For a brief moment he reconsidered the whole idea. but who else on the entire planet was he going to let do this for him? Charlie? Frank? _A trained physician?_

Dennis rested a leg on top of the toilet as Mac laid supine on the floor. “This isn’t just an excuse to teabag me, is it? Because I-“

“No! Of course it isn’t!”

“Pft. Okay.”

As Mac slid between the other man’s legs like a mechanic under a car to... look down there, Dennis contemplated why he wouldn’t snap back. Mac was supposed to fight back, even at such a small bait. He always fought back. He always got over emotional and angry. Always accidentally gave Dennis the advantage. the things that changed between them seeped through the cracks just as Dennis came back to reality, when he heard laughing beneath him.

“Jesus Christ, what?” He tried to look down at Mac, but all Dennis could see was his friend shaking with laughter.

“After all this time I still can’t believe you lasered off all your pubes. Absolutely ridiculous. Is it permanent?”

“Yes it is permanent. And it is not ridiculous. How is that ridiculous? It really is not because otherwise-“

The man beneath him placed warm hands on the outsides of Dennis’s thighs, effectively halting the oncoming tirade. “Spread a ‘lil more.”

After a moment Dennis could see why it was all so funny; Standing in the bathroom stark naked while his best friend who is most definitely in love with him looks at his grundle. he chuckled along as he complied with Mac’s request. “God, this whole thing is so absurd.” He continued to laugh with an air of solemnity, quiet enough that the only person in the world to hear it was Mac. “Do I have cancer or not, dude.”

He couldn’t help but wonder, strange or not, what Mac thought of his genitalia. Before that moment, he never once really questioned the proportionality and allure to be found on the bottom half of his body. He knew women liked what they saw. Felt it right in his god hole every damn time they gazed at him. But then there was Mac. Now Mac was a different story. Why he was, Dennis couldn’t figure, considering he’d seen his penis before and didn’t think twice about his opinion. Regardless, the worst case of potential insecurity erupted in his skull and all he wanted to do was crumble into a dark corner and die of the (maybe) tumor on his body. What if Mac didn’t approve of what he saw? What if-

“Hm.”

“Hmm?” Dennis mocked with irritation.

“You do have something there, alright.”  
Mac sighed. “Just don’t really know what cancer looks like so I can’t-“

Fuming, Dennis quickly leaped from his position and out the door. “Oh, for- Get up. Get up!”

“What? I-“

Dennis stormed away, sitting on his bed, trying his best to show no signs of weakness, because he definitely was not freaking out. It just all became a little too much. The cold air conditioner gusting on his bare skin. The fluorescent lights. The fear of having a malignant tumor. The fear of Mac thinking his dick was ugly or his asshole was weird looking.

“Dude, you gotta tell me what’s-“

“Mac,” Dennis said as serious as the plague and voice as strong as ever, “I-I-I don’t know what I’ll do if- if it- I just can’t-“

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, it’s going to be alright, alright?” Mac placed a reassuring hand to Dennis’s collarbone, burning hot against cool skin. Dennis so desperately wanted to hate the feeling, but he couldn’t. “Go get dressed. I’ll call the doctor and see if they have any emergency spots open, yeah?”

Dennis stared into Mac’s patient eyes for a moment, anxiety melting away from his soul. “Yeah. Okay. Okay. Okay.” He stood up and moved to his closet.

As he got dressed, he could hear Mac quietly on the phone with the receptionist in the kitchen.

“Hi, my partner found a, uh. Abnormality? Thing? On his taint. You know, his grundle? Like a maybe cancer-y thing down there. Do you have any openings today so we can get that checked out?”

_Jesus Christ. Partner? Who gave him permission to call me his goddamn partner? What does he even mean by that?_ Dennis ruminated to himself.

“Yeah, his name is Dennis Reynolds. August 18, 1976. I’m not really sure on that. We’ll have to talk about that when we get there. His number is 215...”

Dennis approached Mac as the phone call was finishing up. _And grundle? Who the fuck calls the doctor and says “grundle”? Idiot._

“Hey, bro,” Mac flashed a smile at Dennis. He decided he hated Mac in that moment. Hated him with his entire being. “Our appointment is at 11:30, so we should be leaving soon.”

“Oh my god, it is not “our appointment”, we do not both have possible cancer by our collective perineums!” Dennis snatched his keys up before leaving the apartment.

“... Yeah, but what if they remove it today?”  
He heard behind him as he reached the end of the hall. “You probably shouldn’t drive in that case. It would be-“

“Mac!” Dennis hissed. “It is a small tumor on my gooch! It will not prevent me from driving!”

His best friend sighed. “If you say so. Also, what’s a perineum?”

* * *

“Hello, I’m doctor Moore.” The woman greeted Dennis warmly, giving a delicate handshake. She appeared roughly 10 years younger than Dennis, with long brown hair and a well fitting lilac dress beneath the lab coat. She was as attractive as the city of Philadelphia would ever permit, and would make a great target for any advances if Dennis decided to go down that route. He noticed a wedding band circling her left ring finger, and willfully chose to ignore it. “Since your old physician and a large portion of his team retired we’re having quite a mess in this whole practice. I’m just going to run down your chart and any other info provided to me by the hospital, sound good?”

“Yes, Dr. Moore. Sounds perfect.” He hinted at something in his tone, but she took no obvious notice of it.

“Alright. So, says here you live at 7887 pine street, your phone number is 215-337-6503, all sound good so far?”

Dennis nodded in response, blinking slowly.

“Obviously I’m not going to keep any of this information on the computer. That would be a major HIPAA violation!” She laughed, and Dennis pretended to find it funny as well. “Lastly, your emergency contact. Mac MacDonald?”

“Yeah. sure.” Dennis grimaced.

“Relation?”

“I'm sorry?”

“Are they a friend, or a brother, a boyfriend-“

“No he’s… he’s not any of that.” Dennis began to grow weary of contemplating his relationship with the other man, so he pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes and applied pressure for a moment. “You know what? Just put husband.” It made the most sense. If they were to put any other option there would be no guarantee of him being able to see Dennis if he wound up on an operating table. So it made perfect sense. A purely logical decision.

Dr. Moore chuckled lightly. “I get that. Before we got married, my wife would always call me her wife. It was always really cute. So! Considering we have a specific reason for this visit I’m not going to go in depth with your medical history until your next wellness check. But do you have any concerns with your medications?”

Oh. Of course she was a lesbian. What else would she be? Was Dennis ever truly lucky in life? It’s always the really pretty ones too. Despite his many attempts in various sexual encounters, he’d never successfully gotten a lesbian to sleep with him. It was a defeat he would never admit out loud to anyone. He sighed. “Medications? Nope. All great. One hundred percent effective and helpful.”

“Alright. I would like to point out that our tests indicates you still seem to be erring a little on the anemic side, but all that can be done to fix such a minor fluctuation to suggest eating more iron filled meats and taking the appropriate supplements, Yeah? So, here it says you’ve an ‘abnormality on your taint’?”

* * *

“I might need you to drive.” Said Dennis upon entering the waiting room. Mac was sat, twisting and ripping up a pamphlet as his leg bounced up and off the ground.

“Den!” Mac burst, both verbally and out of his chair. “How did it go? I really wish they would’ve let me come w-“

It didn’t go very well, in truth. Sure, they removed it, and Dennis was fine, but it wasn’t all fine. Towards the end of his visit, Dr. Moore made a note about his BPD and provided resources. Dennis hated the doctor’s office, even if the doctor was cute that time. He always had and always would. Getting questioned on his mental health, whether he was taking his medication or not, why he was so anemic. He came for one thing, and one thing only. Not to be picked apart under a lens. Not to be reminded of how sick everyone seemed to think he was.

“It’s all good, baby!” Dennis lied, placing a hand on Mac’s arm reluctantly. Mac very visibly preened at the touch, even as Dennis used it to turn them both to the door and started walking. “It wasn’t even cancer! It was a fucking skin tag, can you believe that?”

* * *

“Did they say you should lay in the backseat or anything? Considering it’s on your ass and all.” Mac closed the drivers door, buckling in.

“Nah, we’re all good in that regard.”

“Oh! Eat the apple in the glove box.”

“What?”

“I put it in there. You haven’t eaten yet today, so. eat up.” Mac explained, backing out of the parking space.

Dennis did, in fact, open the glove box. He found a peeled apple cut into slices and placed in a baggie. He had no idea when Mac had time to do so, but began eating it without any hesitation.

“Hey, you know, we could use this to our advantage.”

“The apple?” Dennis questioned.

“No, asshole, the cancer scare.”

“Mac, we’ve had multiple cancer scares. They’ve gone south every single time, man.”

“Nah, nah nah, you aren’t following me bro.” They reached a stoplight, and Mac placed his hand behind the other man’s headrest, turning to face Dennis.

“Oh? What do you have in mind?” Dennis feigned interest. He was tired.

Mac pulled away to continue driving. “Just missing out on work, that’s all. Been what, a week since we did that? Far too long if you ask me.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Dennis eyed himself in the wing mirror, attempting to not acknowledge that he did look pretty... sullen. Sunken in. Strange, considering how great he looked just that morning.

“I don’t want to do anything big, given your ass problem. Just sit at home all day, eat a normal amount of shitty food, watch some movies, yeah?”

“Yeah. That works.”

* * *

“It’s totally gay.”

“What? How?” Sometime later Dennis was lying on one end of the couch, an old blanket pulled up to his nose. The only light in the apartment emanated from the TV, which itself wasn’t bright enough to hurt Dennis’s head. Mac was on the other side and talking with his mouth full again. Dennis withheld the need to screech.

They settled on something quiet of Dennis’s choosing. typically Mac would object to the calmly handled mysteries presented by Jeremy Brett and Edward Harwicke, but no fussing was made. Strangely.

“I mean, come on. Sherlock and Watson? Classic gay pairing.” Mac stuffed more sweet and sour chicken in his mouth.

“Eugh, stop eating while you talk! I will not hesitate to regurgitate everything in my stomach!”

“Okay! Jeez...” Mac shifted so that he was also under the blanket, Dennis’s legs propped in his lap. He took another bite. “... you want some?”

“...Yes.” He was handed the bowl of chicken. “Now elaborate on the “gay shit” or whatever it is you’re talking at the wall about.”

“Oh, you know. Just two dudes, going on adventures, living in an apartment together for way longer than average for single middle aged men.”

“Oh.”

_Oh._

“Haha, so yeah. Totally gay.” Mac repeated.

A pause followed, and Sherlock Holmes on screen was the only one talking in the room. Dennis could almost hear the lightbulb turn on in the other man’s head.

“Den-“

“It’s okay Mac.” It wasn’t. “Ya’didn’t make it weird.” He did.

Mac sighed. “Oh! Okay! Because I-“

“Can we just! Stop talking now. I’ve had a long day and you are not helping!” Dennis didn’t even know how much time passed between waking up to find the skin tag and watching Sherlock Holmes on the couch. He turned to pear out the window, met with a dark sky full of light pollution. Huh.

“Alright then.” Mac resigned, removing himself from the couch to god knows where. For a moment it felt like a victory to Dennis. Finally! He was alone! But then it didn’t. He didn’t actually want to be alone, watching a slightly boring BBC program, no warm body to rest his legs on. He was about to speak up (but not kindly or anything) when Mac returned with a nondescript pill and a glass of water.

“Here you go.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to drug me? What is-”

“It’s Maxalt.”

“What?”

“It’s Maxalt. You’re getting a migraine, man, I know you.”

“Oh.” Dennis hadn’t taken that prescription for years. Hadn’t even thought about it. The whole day he didn’t even take the time to notice the pressure behind his eyes, the nausea building up in the background. He knew Mac would never give him an expired pill (unless he was really desperate), but he decided to drop that train of thought leading to where he got the meds. “Thanks.”

Mac grinned at him, quietly returning to his spot on the couch, under the blanket, and maybe scooting a little closer to the other man. When they finished eating, Mac mindlessly placed a hand on Dennis’s leg.

In some weird totally hypothetical fantasy world, Dennis imagined that Mac was running his hand up and down said leg, applying pressure where he found suitable. He imagined even breaths coming from his mouth as he grasped the gravity of the situation, sinking deeper into the couch as the stress of the day sloughed off his skin under the touch.

But that didn’t happen. Mac’s hand did not move, instead staying as rigid as possible. dennis didn’t even care whether it moved or not, really. In normal circumstances Dennis would have forced him away, scolding him as dramatically as possible in order to keep up some unidentifiable facade, but he didn't have it in him. Dennis drifted off to the sound of Mac quietly sighing, and some lady screaming in the movie.

* * *

Dennis woke up first, as usual. Warm light filtered in through the window, and danced across Mac's eyelashes. He was still sitting in the same position, hand still on Dennis's leg. He looked so young as he slept, face relaxed in a way it could never be in waking. silently, Dennis watched his serene face for awhile. a panicked thought crossed his mind. _It should be weird right? watching him sleep. This. This isn't normal. I shouldn't be doing this._ He rubbed a hand across his face, closing his eyes tightly. His head no longer pounded, but there was an aching elsewhere in this body that he couldn’t identify. He decided against getting up, instead relishing in the fact that he slept the best he had in months, even though the couch is the worst place to sleep in the apartment. The floor would certainly be better for one’s back.

A rough “Hey,” came from the other end of the couch. Mac’s head was turned to face Dennis, eyes half lidded, lips parted.

_Fuck his stupid fucking pretty face,_ Dennis thought.

“Hi.” Dennis grumbled unnecessarily. Pretending he hadn’t been up for awhile, he scrubbed at his eyes.

Mac gave Dennis’s leg one squeeze before he stood up, arching his back in a stretch. He looked down at the other over his shoulder, yawning. “Fuck. ‘S couch has always been such shit. How do you even look so comfortable down there?”

“Well for one, I didn’t sleep sitting up, if that helps.”

“Still would be dying even if I lied down on it. Should get a new one.” Mac padded over to the kitchen, presumably to start coffee. If there was one good reason to keep Mac around, Dennis always figured it was for the coffee making.

“Oh yeah? With what money?”

“I dunno. Probably enough laying around here somewhere.” Mac encouraged from far away.

Minutes passed before he came back, two mugs in hand. One in the shape of various donuts and presumably stolen from Dee, another with a rainbow shooting across it. Dennis grabbed the latter, finding it made just the way he liked.

“So,” Mac started, sitting on the couch as far from Dennis as comfortably possible. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“My agenda,” Dennis sipped. “Involves going to work.”

“No work today, guy.”

“What?”

“Charlie, frank, and Dee are all doing this bullshit plan involving brochures, onions, and immigrants. Left us completely out of it.”

Dennis contemplated those keywords. “...it’s probably for the best.”

“Yeah.” Mac downed his entire cup of coffee for literally no reason. Dennis could always tell he was thinking when his eyes squinted and looked off into the distance. “Listen, we should probably go grocery shopping.”

“Mmm.” Humming in agreement, Dennis took another sip.

“We’re out of eggs and creamer. Probably some other stuff too. I didn’t check very closely.”

“Do we have to keep getting this creamer though? I feel like it tastes the same as off brand and it’s just more expensive.”

“You know, I was thinking the exact same thing. We can get off brand.” Mac scratched his beard, hair still a bird’s nest. “Is there anything else? Toilet paper? Mascara?”

“I’m good on mascara, however we might need to take a quick pop over to Sephora and get some concealer.”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be a problem.” Mac grabbed his phone, checking the time. “You can shower first. But don’t take too long, we’ll hit traffic.”

“Okay.” Dennis finished his mug. He peeled himself from the horrid couch, joints and bones crackling along the way.

* * *

They’d made their way to the mall and moved toward Sephora, but not before mac insisted on sitting in a massage chair and checking if Aunt Anne’s was open. it wasn’t.

“Malls aren’t really meant to be enjoyed this way.” Dennis claimed as they walked to one end of the old mall.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? It’s empty except for old people with nothing better to do. There’s no special decorations for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Half the stores are shut down. The music is faint. It’s weird.”

“I dunno. I kind of like it. It’s….”

“Calm?”

“Yeah! Calm!”

Dennis bumped his elbow against Mac’s. “This used to be the place to be, dude. Do you remember how cool the mall was when we were kids?”

“No. I do remember a store clerk telling you that you didn’t look like you could afford a sweater vest and you went all satan on her, though.”

Dennis scoffed. “An utter imbecile. It wasn’t even that expensive! Seventy dollars! Do I not look like seventy fucking dollars to you?”

Mac took a good hard look at the other dude. “Hmmmm. You look at least two hundred fifty to me.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

At Sephora the cashier looked at Dennis knowingly. Knowingly of what, Dennis couldn’t parse, because there wasn’t really anything about Dennis that she could assume. Just a guy buying makeup with his bro. Nothing weird. He squinted at her, begging the question, _what the hell are you gawking at?_

She continued to smile. “He seems really nice.”

“excuse me?”

She gestured to Mac, who was conversing with another employee about body glitters. “Not too many boyfriends brought in here are that enthusiastic about all this stuff.”

Dennis _could_ have screamed at her for assuming such a thing, loud and terrifying enough to get him banned from that Sephora for life. He could have pummeled her into the ground with his spectacular monologuing skills. Taught her to never mess with the Golden God again. But he didn’t. It was too early in the day.

“Oh. Yeah.” Dennis watched Mac gesticulate wildly before embarrassingly flexing his bicep, asking what glitter the lady thought would look best there. Dennis sighed fondly. “Yeah. He’s um. He’s too good for me.” The girl giggled, telling him to have a nice day as she handed the bag over. He hoped the next customer who she pulled that shit on would react in a much more negative way than him.

* * *

“So. which one of us is Sherlock and which one of us is Watson?” Dennis asked, pushing the cart through the aisle, calculating what they would be paying on his phone.

“Obviously you’d be sherlock.” Mac grabbed creamer. “This brand, right?”

“Yeah yeah, that one’s good. What makes you so sure I’m Sherlock?”

“he’s good at reading people and pretends to be mysterious.”

“Hey-“

“Plus he- you didn't check the carton again, dude.” Mac picked up the eggs from the cart, opening the packaging to reveal a cracked egg.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I’ll go get a new one, be right back.” He jogged down the aisle, returning with new eggs. “As I was saying,”

“Mhm.” Dennis said from inside the freezer, grabbing a kale blend. Mac had taken to putting more greens in his smoothies recently. He probably thought Dennis wouldn’t notice, but he always noticed.

“He was the one who probably paid most of the rent, so it’s kind of fitting. Watson was always chubby so I must have really been like him when I was so big and strong.”

“Wow, You’ve won me over, dude. I truly am Sherlock Holmes.”

“Even disappeared for awhile without contacting his Watson, like you.”

“How do you know so much about Sherlock Holmes- wait what?” Dennis gripped the cart tighter.

“I really liked that one with that Cumbersnatch guy. A lot more action than that boring one you always force me to watch. But what’s with that trope of tall dark haired dude and short, lighter haired twink in gay media?” Mac rambled on about the wrongdoings of straight film makers for awhile, as they walked down the aisles, grabbing items as needed. He stopped at one point to find diet coke bottles with both their names on it, but he eventually gave up.

_This is gay,_ Dennis suddenly came to the conclusion, in a grocery store of all places. _This is really, really gay._

Realizing what was happening with Mac and him was far less shocking that Dennis could have ever imagined. Mac must have not noticed, lost in what protein powders the store had to offer, as Dennis’s face went through the 5 stages of grief in 5 minutes. Was it even real? What he felt towards Mac? Could he even feel like that anymore? Not being disgusted as he watched Mac open and sniff the whey powder like a crackhead, Dennis felt almost at ease with it all. Yeah, he supposed he could feel like that.

“Wait a minute. When do you ever go grocery shopping? And at a Wegmans?” Dennis prodded.

“It’s not like my go-to place for shopping is a Wa-Wa, bitch. Do you want bacon or turkey bacon?”

“Get both. I want to compare.”

“Plus, what did you expect me to do? Starve myself just because you left?”

“I, ah, yeah. makes sense.” Dennis resigned.

“jesus, I’m teasing you man! Let’s go check out, I think we’ve got everything.”

“Okay.”

* * *

“Yeah, Charlie, you’re on speaker.” Mac said, taking food out of the bags to put on the counter.

“Right, so, I know I was all like ‘you guys can’t be a part of this one because of yada onions yada yada,’ but do you think you could run over to Kinkos and make some brochure copies for us?” In the background there were various voices that didn’t seem to be speaking english.

“Well, I mean-“

“First of all,” Dennis cut in. “Kinkos hasn’t been around since like 2004, and second, we are busy.”

“What could you possibly be doing to make you not help out? Foreplay? Look, we just need copies really-“

“Charlie! The onions!” Frank shouted from far away.

“Right! The onions! I’ll be right- listen forget about the copies alright? You guys are useless- I’m coming for the onions, frank!” Charlie promptly hung up.

“Wow.” Dennis said.

“Yeah. Real happy to not be in that one.”

Dennis chucked in response, placing stuff in the fridge. It felt so natural, the way he moved around Mac and how Mac moved around him. It was like they’d been doing it their whole lives, which is pretty close to the length of their friendship. They settled into an easy rhythm of putting everything away, quiet as the moments slipped by, gently bumping wrists from time to time. Rain began to fall at some point, softly creating rivulets and pattering against the windows.

“Listen, Mac…”

“hmm?”

Dennis rubbed the back of his neck, and mac placed the last cup of yogurt away. If all went wrong, and Dennis was wrong, and his whole world crumbled beneath his fingertips in the following seconds, he couldn’t be sure. He was so sure of so many things in life. Who he was. How he felt. What power he had and in what ways he mattered. He was so sure of so much that he used the exact same toothpaste and facial cleanser for the past twenty years. But as he watched Mac place his hands behind him on the counter, wearing those fucking navy Dickies, grey hairs peaking through his beard, he wasn’t confident in anything. Anything could be a false idol then. You could ask him if he was real, and if what he experienced from a day to day basis was real and tangible, and he wouldn’t know. He might even say no. How could one outcome, one person have the power to do that? Collapse the tight knit ecosystem of his entire being? Seconds stretched into epochs, breaths encapsulated lifespans, and if he could live in a snapshot of what was laid out before his eyes forever he would. All he had to do was say three words and everything would turn into dust. The option to say “oops! we forgot the pasta!” Instead flitted through his mind. He braced his hands on the back of a kitchen chair, tapping his foot against the ground a few times before turning to meet Mac’s eyes. Three words. All it took. He took a measured breath.

“We’re gay right?”

Mac’s face fell. “Huh?”

“Like. I mean together. You and me. Not as in we’re together, presently, as a couple, but the way in which we behave towards each other is gay.”

“I…”

Dennis’s throat felt thick, even as the dust seemed to settle around him and his life didn’t instantly end. “I um… come on man. You know what I mean. We… all this time, you know? I heard you call me your partner over the phone yesterday. And at first I was mad, like, what stupid idiot says that about his very comfortably straight best friend? But. Then the doctor suggested I put you down as “husband” for my emergency contact, totally all her idea, by the way, and then the dumbass cashier at Sephora called you my boyfriend and. It-it got me thinking, that is how it is, isn’t it? Don’t make me explain myself anymore I’m literally two seconds from vomiting.”

“Jesus, sit down.” Mac scolded gently, pulling out a seat for the very visibly panicking man.

For a beat they simply stared at each other. Rather, Dennis stared at Mac and watched his cogs ticking beneath the surface. The man opposite him was very quietly bouncing his leg up and down, but Dennis knew it was happening. He probably thought Dennis couldn’t see how anxious he was or whatever. Dennis himself wasn’t feeling anxious at all. No anxiety whatsoever.

“this… is very sudden,” Mac began.

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you? Didn’t you just hate me for awhile back there? all no-touchy?”

“It’s the internalized homophobia.”

“Ah. But you’re straight. I thought-”

“It’s always been the internalized homophobia.”

Silence. Again.

“I don’t know what to say to you, dude. This feels like a big, horrible joke, whatever happened to ’it will never happen willingly’?”

“I just- I take it back, goddammit! I want what we used to have!” Dennis cried out. It wasn’t a joke. For once in his entire life, he was further away from joking than he’d ever been. Mac’s expression was full of a whole cauldron of emotions— confusion, hopefulness, maybe even anger. Dennis wished he couldn’t see the sadness peaking through the corners of his perfect lips, the gentle swoop of his eyebrows. Age was creeping up on Mac, albeit it was slow in doing so, as the wrinkles on his forehead and by his eyes became more prominent. On anyone else, Dennis would reject the mere idea of considering wrinkles attractive. But as he watched Mac search for what was hiding in the other man’s eyes, Dennis couldn’t help but feel warm at the sight of crow’s feet. “I want the monthly dinners. I want our stupid schemes to involve us making others uncomfortable with how homoerotic we are! I want to go grocery shopping with you and for you to make appointments for me when I’m close to freaking out! And I want to wake up and know you’re there! it was so easy back then, before I fucked everything up! How did you make it so easy! I want to,” Dennis’s voice became subdued, pressing his face into his cold hands. “I just want.” Silence followed.

“Hey.” Mac tapped on the other’s shoulder. “Remember that time I went down south to visit Country Mac when you were up at UPenn?”

“Yes. You called me like every five minutes. It was pretty awful. The frat guys were sure you were my boyfriend.”

“Whatever bitch that’s besides the point here!” Mac sighed. “He was living in this little house miles and miles from the nearest town with a boyfriend and it was fuckin’ crazy to me! Of course I wouldn’t let myself think that because I hated gay people. But I’d never seen real life gays living together and in love and shit. Deep down it blew my mind! they were just… existing. Together. I didn’t know that was an option at all.”

“What are you getting at here?”

“The point is… I lost the point.”

“Great.”

“Oh fuck you man, you suddenly decide to be all gay and the second I try to be sentimental and gay with you you throw me off track!” Mac got up from his seat very loudly.

Dennis grabbed his wrist lightly. “Come on- come back! We are not done talking.”

Mac slumped back in his chair. His wrist was still being held by the other, so he shifted his fingers to be intertwined with Dennis’s. “The point is that that’s what I did. All those years. Cared for you like a southern bear cares for his ‘lil twink. ‘Cept I was very deeply closeted and closer to an otter, but you know. I guess it was always that way to me.”

“You were nowhere near an otter. and I am not a goddamn twink, for the matter. How are you gay and still do not understand the subculture?” Dennis processed it all, and most certainly did not whine, “I’m the worst person. You don’t deserve me, babe. I’ve ruined everything.”

“Oh don’t you try to guilt trip me, dicknips. I’m not a D.E.N.N.I.S. target.”

“Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Because what asshole would say ‘I want to grocery shop with you’ just to get a guy to blow like what, two loads in him?”

“Oh goddamn you! I should never have done any of this, it was-“ Dennis tried to rip his hand from Mac’s, only for it to be wrapped up in both of the other’s very masculine hands and having a kiss placed on top, effectively shutting Dennis’s brain off. How on earth could a guy kissing his _hand_ make him do that?

“You said it yourself, Den. We’re gay together, right?” Mac smiled, pressing their hands to his cheek. It wasn’t a smug grin, or one to indicate some variety of prank. It was an honest to god, genuine smile, sent from heaven all the way to Dennis’s eyes. “How’s your head, by the way? The migraine cleared itself?”

“Yeah. It did.” Dennis breathed.

“Good.”

They sat silently for what felt like the twentieth time that day. But it was comfortable, with almost a sweetness to it. Now that Dennis handled his gay crisis with perfect ease and no road bumps at all, they could both move on in life.

“Are you hungry? I’ll make us something to eat. there's probably some curry in there from a few nights ago. I can reheat some rice, too.” He stood, walking towards the fridge.

“Yeah! And I’ll go call Charlie and see what the hell they're actually doing.”

“Ehhhh, I wouldn’t bother. I could practically smell whatever onions they had through the phone.”

“Hahaha.” Mac came up from behind Dennis, wrapping his arms around his waist and hooking his head on his shoulder. He whispered, “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Not having ass cancer.”

“Ugh, Get off of me!”

* * *

“what’s up, sloppynuts?” Dee asked, churning onions in a giant pot placed on four countertop burners in the middle of the pub. Mac and Dennis decided to check on what the three idiots were doing without them.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell are you guys doing to my bar? It reeks in here!” Dennis pulled his shirt up to his eyes, and Mac began gagging.

“I gotta tell you man, they won’t actually say what they’re doing, but they gave me three hundred buckerinos just to sit here and do this all day, so I’mmm not really concerned with what’s going on.” Dennis couldn’t stand how her voice constantly was a glissando getting higher and higher as she spoke.

“This is absolutely filthy. Go find Frank and Charlie and bring them here at once!”

“But I-“

“At once!”

Dee immediately jumped from her position to the office room. Next to Dennis, Mac was groaning.

“Holy hell, dude, if I knew it would be this bad I would have worn a shirt I could pull over my head!” He desperately tried to bring the collar of the henley he sported up to his face, but it was far too skin tight.

“Mac, you don’t have any shirts you can pull over your head anymore. We seriously need to get you some new stuff to wear. Cover your face with your hands!”

“But I need free range of motion in order to stay alert!” He whimpered.

“Just- there should be one of your sweatshirts in the trunk of the car. Go grab it.”

Dee returned with a bickering Charlie and Frank, both wearing very suspicious hazmat suits. Mac came back into the bar, hood tightened to its max around his head, arms waving wildly for something to grab onto.

“Get... Get over here.” Dennis grabbed Mac by the waist, pulling him into his side. “How are you going to stay alert if you can’t see shit?”

“I have an impeccable sense of hearing, bro. If someone comes at me I’ll strike first cuz’ I can hear so good.”

“...Oookay. Now, you three, explain this. All of it!”

“It’s top secret.” Frank responded.

Charlie Scratched his head. “Yeah, just some onions.”

“Top secret? What the fuck? This is our bar, you can’t-“

“Oh my goddd It’s just onions man! I don’t know what‘s so-“

“Did you two kiss and make up or something?” Dee asked, pointing talons at them.

“Yeah, what’s… going on over there?” Charlie chimed in.

Frank jumped in with “Seems pretty gay if you ask me.”

Mac spoke, excitement muffled by the hoodie. “Yeah guys, we totally kissed! A lot! It was really awesome. Dennis w-“

“we are NOT going to discuss the specifics of our private life!” Dennis fumed. “What the fuck are all these onions for!”

“Well Dee, guess you’re gonna have to forfeit that 300 we gave you.” Charlie completely ignored the question, and held his hand out.

“What? You guys, we made that bet like, 6 years ago! It’s basically null!”

“Are you guys really just going to ignore me-“ Dennis tried to interject.

“A deal’s a deal, Deandra.” Frank, too, held out his hand.

Her face did that weird scrunchy thing that it did when she was angry. “This is total bullshit-“

“Nope.”

“Then I’m not going to churn the onions!”

“We got plenty of other people back at the apartment who can do it for us!”

“Oh! Oh! I’ll do it!” Mac raised his hand like a school kid.

Dennis sighed, accepting that he’d never be told what the hell was going on. “I too, would like to help stir the pot. For a price, of course.”

“ how much?”

“300 for both of us.”

“Okie dokie,” Frank said, poking Charlie in the stomach. “Go get the extra hazmat suits.”

Dee gasped. “what? Why didn’t I get a hazmat suit? You said the onions were safe to be around and that I didn’t need one!”

“Shut up! I gotta go back to what I was doing before you nutjobs interrupted me!” Frank waddled back to the office, and Dee squawked as she left the bar.

Charlie came back with the suits while Mac was taking a piss. “So you guys kissed and shit?”

Dennis eyed him incredulously. Sure, yeah, they kissed. A lot. And every single one was the most magical kiss Dennis had ever experienced in his entire life. He felt completely ridiculous thinking such a thing, being a very masculine man in his forties. He’d kissed hundreds, if not thousands of people in his life. But no one ever really kissed him because they liked him. The real him. They liked the nice guy who picked up his grandma’s medicines, they liked the guy who helped out at the community garden, they liked Brian Lefevre. They didn’t like the guy who gave his best friends anthrax or the guy who set Art Sloan’s lawn on fire, or the guy who abruptly left for North Dakota. But Mac did. He always had, from day one. The rain slowed down, and as Mac’s hand played with the curls on the back of his head, as Mac’s nose rubbed against the side of his own, he was kissing Dennis. The real Dennis. The soft animal buried beneath an iron curtain who came to be known as Dennis Reynolds.

Charlie waited for an answer, and Dennis sighed curtly. “Yeah. We kissed a little. It’s not a big deal.”

“Cool.”

* * *

Later, when night fell, it became clear to Dennis that nothing had really changed between them, and it never would. Perhaps Mac touched him a little differently, though. Walking by Dennis, he made sure to place a hand between his shoulder blades or on his forearm. As he brushed his teeth while Dennis did some gimmicky Korean face mask, he made sure to smile and play with the hem of his shirt. As they both laid beneath the thousand thread count sheets of Dennis’s bed, all quiet except for the rain outside, Mac reached out for Dennis’s cheek.

“Hey.” Dennis whispered.

“Hey.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Hmm?” Mac’s thumb brushed across the other’s lips, feather light.

“Do you think my dick looks weird?”

“No...”

“No? And does my asshole also not look weird?”

“Dennis. Your asshole is perfect.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

**Author's Note:**

> gosh the s14 hype has really gotten to me. And I just wanted an excuse to use the various different words for taint. Hope you enjoyed this little thing!!! Originally it was supposed to be much more emo but I don't like writing sad things :,)


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